


spread your wings

by jillyfae



Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: Theodora of Arland was taught well about the dangers of trying to fly too high... but it was only after arriving at the Summit that she realized flying too low was just as dangerous.
Relationships: Arland Princess/Lyon
Kudos: 4





	1. Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> these are mostly from the 7kpp fictober prompts ([tumblr post](https://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/630802534057099264)).

_Early to bed, early to rise..._

It was one of the few habits her parents expected that had been easy for her.

Not that what she _did_ with her early mornings would have met with their approval, but as long as she was quiet, and looked serious, and showed up whenever and wherever she was supposed to be all day, it never occurred to them to look at _what_ she was reading every morning, curled up in the window seat of her bedroom.

Early morning light was her very favorite to read by, cooler than the afternoon light, which made the pages looks yellow, steadier than any flame, even that in a fine hurricane lantern or sconce, and her window was angled perfectly to insure the light fell clear upon the pages, rather than getting caught in her hair or fingers or sleeves the way it did in the room her Governess had used when she was younger.

She always had a _respectable_ book or two by her side, and she read those, of course, the histories written by _reputable_ Arland scholars, as if repute was more important than accuracy, and that was enough that they never noticed the novels and fairy tales, the travelogues, the philosophy, the few treatises from Jiyel that Constance had helped her collect.

Success at that, through the years, was enough that she felt brave enough to write her sister, after she was gone, and to hide the few letters she received back between the pages of her books, safe and sound, where she could pull them out and read them again, any morning she wanted.

(She had to slide them all between the pages of her mother’s favorite etiquette manual to get them to the Summit with her, but she wasn’t about to leave them behind.)

Her room on the Isle had the same cool steady morning light, and her very first morning there, she let her fingertips trail against the edges of Constance’s letters, and thought, _maybe,_ maybe it really all would turn out all right. 


	2. Renown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/632439468971917312): So the turning point for my Princess in terms of duty vs freedom, was actually very early in the Summit: the very first night was when she realized she didn’t have to be “The Arland Princess”, that in fact it might do more harm than good to rely on her family’s infamous reputation for propriety here on the Isle.
> 
> So, everything else that happens later? Is entirely thanks to Ana. ;)

Theodora pretended she couldn’t feel the tremble in her fingers as she stood still, just a breath or two to herself, as she first walked into the welcome feast at the Isle.

However terrified she was, she did, in fact, know what she was supposed to do, and how to do it. Be polite, be quiet, speak when spoken to, over and over until it was time to eat.

She wouldn’t have to talk while she was eating, she could manage to be conveniently chewing at all the wrong moments if she needed a break.

She just had to make it to dinner.

The Princess of Skalt came up to her, and Theodora did what she knew was right, she dipped into the courtesy of equals, Princess to Princess, and spoke as politely as she knew how.

And the Princess of Skalt _hated it._

She didn’t say so, of course, but Theodora _felt_ the slight wrinkle across Princess Anaele’s brow before the frown was wiped away into a smile again.

Theodora knew that not everyone was as strict in their manners as she was, that not everyone had to be so careful, but she had believed that it was _her duty_... They might be more familiar with each other, but they’d be offended by such a thing coming from her.

Wouldn’t they?

But if she kept being so formal with the _Princess of Skalt,_ who it was terribly important she make a good impression on, as one of the few other royal heirs here at the Summit...

She’d _lose_.

She couldn’t alienate the head of the Skalt delegation on the very first night!

There was a gaping chasm in Theodora’s chest, panic waiting to overwhelm her, _if she wasn’t supposed to do what she’d been told to do, what else was there?_

But then Anaele asked if there was something else to call her, something less of a mouthful than ‘Princess Theodora’ and... she had an answer to that.

It wasn’t what her parents would have told her to say, but...

It was what Constance called her.

She felt the urge to smile at the thought of her sister, and she knew exactly what to say.

More importantly, perhaps, she knew _how_ to say it. She let the smile she usually reserved for Constance slip free, warmer than any she’d ever risked at a formal occasion, and felt her spine straighten just a little, felt her shoulders loosen.

“You can call me Dora, if you prefer.”


	3. surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/632443199144787968): so if “renown” was right as the welcome feast began, this is during… and the not so fun after.

Theodora commits, then and there, while talking to Princess Anaele... no. _Dora_ commits, while talking to _Ana._ She cannot be unaware of how her parents have trained her to behave, but this... this is more important than their expectations, this is about everyone’s future, not just hers.

She gives in to that thought, more impulse than a conscious plan, and lets herself go. She looks at each new person she meets, looks at how they stand and how they talk, how they lean towards the people around them, how they look around the rest of the feast, how they look at _her,_ what they say and how they say it, and takes every ounce of experience she has watching her parents’ Court to help her interpret it. (Watching only, never participating, and now she wonders why, _why_ she’s stuck like this, so far away from who she needs to be, for this, when all she needed was a little more _give..._ but that doesn’t matter now, it doesn’t matter what she had or what they did, only what she can do with who she is, _right now._ )

She offers her respects to most of the Chaperones, to their countries, to their interests, and thinks she succeeds. (The Grand Duke of Wellin catches her eye, and dismisses her with a flick of his own, and she lets him, and decides there’s only so much that can be expected of her on her _first day._ )

She sees how stiff the Prince of Wellin holds himself, and and speaks to him as she always wished people would dare to speak to her, at home, and he _smiles._

She offers Princess Penelope comfort, rides the terror of Hamin of Hise’s brash laugh and pretends she likes this adventure she’s embarked upon, pretends so hard she almost believes it.

(And yet she’s desperately relieved to fall back on comforting formality with Princess Cordelia, a break where she can _breathe,_ and do what is familiar, what is safe, and be greeted with the same in return. She falls a little bit in love, right then and there, with the one other person here who seems to speak the same language she does, the language she’d been told her whole life was the only one she’d ever need to know.)

Prince Zarad sweeps her into a dance, and she calls him every insulting name she can think of, with a smile on her face. (She means them, every one, and hates him a little on behalf of the girl she was just a few minutes ago, before Ana, before Cordelia, who would have burst into tears and had her entire Summit ruined for one madcap young man’s _whim._ He bows her away again, a glint of respect in his eyes, and she wonders at how fragile Constance’s life must be, caught in the Corvali Court surrounded by men _like that._ And worse.)

She greets Crown Prince Jarrod, because she must, and the grip of his hand makes her realize how much worse could get. Because this is cruelty, and selfish caprice, and she is afraid. 

She almost flees when she gets the chance. She manages to hide her desire to retreat, but she cannot make herself brave Princess Gisette’s cold eyes.

And maybe, maybe she can see how Zarad’s greeting was a test, a way to see if she had what it took to survive the next seven weeks _now,_ rather than waiting ‘til later when the consequences would still be worse.

She hates herself almost as much as him, that she thinks she’s already forgiven him for it.

Lord Clarmont puts her more at ease than she thought possible, after that, and she stood up with Prince Zarad, with Clarmont behind her she can stand up for Penelope too, can’t she?

(She can, she almost doesn’t believe it, and the Theodora in the back of her thoughts is _screaming,_ terror and shock and worry, but Dora smiles, and keeps going.)

Lady Avalie is beautiful and smooth, as flawless as porcelain and gold, and Dora wonders if there’s a way to be more like that, when she grows up a little more.

And Duke Lyon...

He lets her talk about the past, rather than making her worry about the present or the future, and she hopes she gets the chance to talk to him again. 

She saves the Earl for last, her sweetly remembered Emmett, the one friend she hopes she has just for herself, and it’s more difficult than she expected not to throw herself into his arms and cling to the one spot of comfort here in this horrifying new stage of her life.

But she doesn’t, and he smiles, and she smiles back, and maybe they’ll both survive the next seven weeks, as long as they help each other through the days.

And Dora smiles, and _smiles,_ and makes it through dinner, and back to her room, and it’s only when she’s finally behind her closed door, curled up in every blanket she can find, that she lets Theodora out again, eyes dry but burning, body shaking so hard she’s surprised to realize she’s still in one piece when she wakes up the next morning.


	4. hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/632455427382263808): Theodora of Arland realizing she does _not_ know how to do things by halves. Kind of like a guy? Nope. Adore him beyond rhyme or reason after knowing him for less than three weeks?& Yep, that sounds about right. 
> 
> But maybe, maybe she doesn’t have to be _obvious_ about how far she’s willing to go? Maybe.

“Will you stay if I promise to behave?”

Theodora had meant to tease him. Lyon was part of why she had the nerve to tease now, unlike back home, before the Summit, before the Isle, before these people and this world, so different than her own.

She didn’t quite make it though, something too plaintive in her voice, and she realized that if he asked it of her, she _would,_ she’d figure out what “behave” meant to him, to Jiyel, and she’d do it, completely, entirely, forever, just like she’d once thought she’d “behave” for Arland for her entire life.

It terrified her, that she’d throw away everything she’d started to learn these past three weeks, for him.

If he was who she thought he was, he wouldn’t ask her to, no, he wouldn’t _let_ her...

Maybe let wasn’t the right word. He’d never stop her from doing what she decided to do, she thought. She hoped.

But she didn’t think he’d let her _fall,_ and that’s what it would be, going back to Arland, to the way things used to be.

She didn’t want to fall.

She wanted someone to catch her, if she did, despite her best intentions.

She wanted to believe he was that someone.

And wasn’t the only to find out, to try?

She thought of Zarad’s face under the starlight, the melancholy he couldn’t quite hide when she accused him of being lonely, when she said he didn’t trust anyone.

She didn’t want that future.

She wanted this one, she thought, watching the way Lyon adjusted his long stride so as to keep beside her, rather than pulling ahead.

She wanted this.

She wanted him to be the man she thought he was.

She wanted _him,_ for as long as she could have him.

She tried not to wonder if Constance had thought the same thing about her husband, back during her Summit, or if she’d always known...

Theodora let out a breath.

She couldn’t do anything for Constance right now, except this.

Except trust in something that might be better.

Trust in someone.

Trust in Lyon.

Trust that her own heart had chosen well. 


End file.
